


Sidewalks

by Smut-can-666 (phan_trash_1)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phan_trash_1/pseuds/Smut-can-666
Summary: Dan Howell is a singer. Well, not officially. He didn't grow up rich and get singing lessons and have a lot of money. In fact, quite the opposite is true about his life. But he meets someone while living on the streets that loves him not only for his talent, but for himself.





	

"Get out already! You haven't been paying rent, and I'm tired of you just sitting around, singing instead of getting a real job!" I remember that her words stung like needles or knives being shoved into me. I would have to move out. But to where, I recall not knowing. I was eighteen then, and the woman yelling was my mother. I don't even know where she is now.

I continue strolling down the street. My hands in my pockets, I stare at the storefronts like I do everyday, pondering if I have enough money to buy that shirt or that fresh loaf of bread. I never really do. I feel the limited money in my pockets and sigh. It's not like this is new to me. It's been a few years since that whole thing. I just roam the streets, singing on corners for spare change.

I remember when my mother shoved me out of the door. I thought she didn't love me. I vowed as tears streamed down my face that I never wanted to see her again. That was a mistake. I cried so much then that I like to say that I ran out of tears when I was eighteen. I haven't really cried since then, so I must have.

I stop at a corner and decide that is where I will sing next. I hold my hand out and then start singing. I once again hear my voice echoing through the corridors of the street. Soon enough, like they always do, people gather around in a sea, almost threatening to swallow me up if I stop singing. I see the coins and bills in my hands and eventually I stop and the people disperse. I slip all the money into my pockets and then continue on. What a simplistic, nomadic life.


End file.
